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Many voters say they want an alternative to the Democratic and Republican front-runners. But can independent candidates be anything other than spoilers?
Amid a sea of maroon and gold at Saturday’s Boston College vs. Harvard basketball game, one group of students stands out: All wear T-shirts promoting the independent presidential campaign of Robert F. Kennedy Jr.
These young fans say Mr. Kennedy is the only candidate offering bipartisan solutions, in a 2024 race that’s shaping up as a rematch between President Joe Biden and former President Donald Trump.
Mr. Kennedy, a prominent vaccine critic and scion of one of America’s most storied political dynasties, is just one of several independents running. No Labels, a bipartisan political group, is also laying the groundwork for a potential “unity” ticket.
Given the tight margins in battleground states, all could prove consequential, though their chances of victory are remote. And this election cycle could be one in which independents matter to a degree not seen since 1992 – when Ross Perot, a self-funded businessman, received 19% of votes cast.
Public discontent with the direction of the country and the unpopularity of both Mr. Biden and Mr. Trump could push more voters to consider unconventional alternatives.
Dante Scala, a political scientist at the University of New Hampshire, points to the large number of voters unhappy with both major-party front-runners: “That leaves an opening.”
Sitting in the stands at Saturday’s Boston College vs. Harvard basketball game, Max Silverman wasn’t rooting for either team. He and a group of friends had all come to the game wearing T-shirts promoting the independent presidential campaign of Robert F. Kennedy Jr., as part of a meet-up for volunteers.
A junior at Emmanuel College in Boston, Mr. Silverman calls himself a “lifelong Democrat” who leans left on most issues. But like many young people here, the politics major regards President Joe Biden as an uninspiring figure who “doesn’t represent what I believe – or what anyone else my age does.”
Unhappy with the two main parties’ ironclad grip on political office, these students see Mr. Kennedy, a onetime Democrat, as the only candidate offering bipartisan solutions, in a 2024 race that is shaping up as a rematch between President Biden and former President Donald Trump.
“They’ll tell you it’s democracy, when in reality you have no choice,” Mr. Silverman says. “Having different options and different parties and different representation is, I think, what everyone would want,” he says.
Mr. Kennedy, a prominent vaccine critic and scion of one of America’s most storied political dynasties, isn’t the only independent in the race. Cornel West, a left-wing academic, has already declared his candidacy, while Jill Stein has launched a campaign again as a Green Party candidate. Then there’s No Labels, a bipartisan political group that is laying the groundwork for a potential “unity” ticket, with candidates still to be named.
Given the tight margins in battleground states, any or all third-party candidates could prove consequential, say analysts, though their individual chances of victory are remote. And this election cycle could prove to be one in which independent candidates matter to a degree not seen since 1992 – when Ross Perot, a self-funded businessman, received 19% of votes cast without winning a single state. In particular, RFK Jr.’s high poll numbers in recent surveys, particularly among younger voters, have raised alarm bells for both main parties.
Widespread public discontent with the direction of the country and the unpopularity of both Mr. Biden and Mr. Trump could push many more voters to consider unconventional alternatives. Faced with these two men as likely nominees, two-thirds of voters in an October survey by the Harvard CAPS/Harris Poll said the country “needs another choice,” while 53% said they would consider voting for a “moderate independent candidate.”
“Given how close the polls look right now, it’s a volatile mix,” says Dante Scala, a political scientist at the University of New Hampshire, who points to the large number of “double negative” voters unhappy with both major-party front-runners. “That leaves an opening – but who fills it is, to me, the big question. Is there a bold choice, especially from a younger generation?”
So far, almost none of the candidates, declared or presumed, fit that exact description. Mr. Kennedy, along with most of the other third-party candidates, is past retirement age. The exception: Chase Oliver, the Libertarian candidate, who is 38.* President Biden turned 81 on Monday; Mr. Trump would be 78 by the next presidential election.
And while voters may express interest in a hypothetical “moderate independent,” that’s much easier than supporting a specific candidate, says Bernard Tamas, a politics professor at Valdosta State University and author of “The Demise and Rebirth of American Third Parties: Poised for Political Revival?”
That said, Professor Tamas believes there’s an opening on the center-right for a national candidate who can appeal to disaffected conservatives and potentially break through, despite an electoral system that is stacked against third parties. “The Republican Party is moving so far to the right that it would be easy to attack them from the center. But nobody’s doing it right now,” he says.
That may change: No Labels has said that it may nominate a unity ticket after the main parties pick their 2024 candidates, provided it sees a realistic path to victory. “We are not in this to be spoilers,” Joe Lieberman, a former Democratic senator who co-chairs No Labels, told ABC News in July.
Any such ticket is likely to be headed by a Republican from the “Never Trump” wing. Some have also speculated that Democratic Sen. Joe Manchin of West Virginia, who recently said he won’t seek reelection and is hoping to “mobilize the middle,” could join a No Labels ticket.
Joel Searby is a big believer in electoral choice. In 2016, he was an adviser to the independent presidential campaign of Evan McMullin, a Never-Trump conservative who received a fifth of the vote in Utah, his home state. Mr. McMullin was among several third-party candidates who shared nearly 6% of the vote nationwide that year, as voters sought out alternatives to Mr. Trump and Democrat Hillary Clinton.
Mr. Searby, who until recently worked as national policy director at the Forward Party, a new political party, says voters are hungry for greater choice. “The pure market demand for a new way in our politics is astronomically high,” he says.
But he worries that No Labels, a well-financed group whose centrism he applauds, could be the ultimate spoiler in 2024. “They have to be taken seriously as a factor,” he says, echoing the analysis of other observers who warn that any defection among conservatives who voted for Mr. Biden in 2020 could benefit Mr. Trump.
“I’m very nervous about the No Labels play contributing to the reelection of President Trump,” says Mr. Searby, who sees Mr. Trump as unfit for office. “It’s well intentioned but not well thought out.”
With a year to go before the election, polling is likely to shift as the stakes become clearer, particularly for Democrats panicked by Mr. Trump’s ascendancy, says Michael Wolf, chair of the department of political science at Purdue University. Unlike in 1992, when Mr. Perot siphoned off millions of votes from Republican President George H.W. Bush, voters today are much more motivated to stop the other side’s candidate from winning.
“The fear of losing the general election is exactly what is driving up concern about Biden, in particular, but also may be what persuades Democrats to stick with him and even to embrace his record when the alternative is narrowed,” Professor Wolf says via email.
Back at Boston College, after the home team sealed a 73-64 win over Harvard to extend an unbeaten record, Mr. Silverman and his friends head out into the cold fall evening.
Asked whether Mr. Kennedy’s candidacy could help elect Mr. Trump, Mr. Silverman concedes it’s a risk. But he thinks it’s worth it.
“I do believe that when he gets the chance to go on that debate stage with Biden on his left and Trump on his right – when the American people see that, it’s going to be a no-brainer. And I think they’ll realize ... this guy makes total sense,” he says.
* Editor's note: This story was updated to reflect Mr. Oliver's candidacy.
Originally, the Manama Dialogue was supposed to discuss how to strengthen ties among Mideast countries, including Israel. Then the war happened. What followed is a parable of how trust is lost. A first step to rebuilding it, however, seemed clear to many.
This year’s edition of the Manama Dialogue, a conference convened by a British think tank that gathers everybody who is anybody in Middle East diplomatic and military circles, was intending to focus on cooperation.
Instead, participants talked about nothing but the war in Gaza. But they had more questions than answers when it came to “day-after” issues, such as who will run Gaza when the Israeli bombing stops.
Some even wondered whether the world might have reached another breaking point – “an Iraq moment,” as one Gulf diplomat put it – recalling the 2003 war that reshaped the region, deepened distrust of the West, and bolstered extremists.
But on one thing, everybody agreed. The killing has to stop.
Exasperated sighs and skeptical “hmm”s – these were the sounds of a conference on Middle East cooperation dominated by a war that few foresaw and even fewer know how to stop.
The scene was the annual Manama Dialogue hosted by the International Institute for Strategic Studies, an august British think tank. It was held last weekend in the capital of Bahrain, a sleepy but strategic Persian Gulf kingdom, welcoming senior diplomats, robed Gulf princes, decorated military officers, and analysts from around the world to the marble-floored Ritz Carlton.
The plan had been to discuss ways of working together to confront common challenges. Instead, participants – like the rest of the world – were stumped by the Israel-Hamas war in Gaza.
Predictably, speakers condemned Hamas’ brutal Oct. 7 attack on Israel, called for the release of hostages, and urged Israel to halt its punishing military campaign in Gaza.
But it took only minutes for deep differences to boil to the surface.
It began when Brett McGurk, the Biden administration’s National Security Council coordinator for the Middle East, ruled out calls for a cessation of Israel’s military offensive and to end the war, saying that “calling for a cease-fire is not a path to peace.”
He was rebuked onstage and panned by eye-rolling conferencegoers during the coffee break. “Very unimpressive,” lamented one European diplomat.
“It is as if the Biden administration sees a different conflict and lives in a different world,” a Arab Gulf official told me.
Disillusioned Arab Gulf officials said the war had punctured their belief that they could make peace with Israel and normalize relations while leaving the Israeli-Palestinian conflict unresolved.
With palpable frustration in the air, Anwar Gargash, political adviser to Mohamed bin Zayed, president of the United Arab Emirates, openly wondered whether the world had reached “an Iraq moment,” referring to the 2003 war that reshaped the Middle East, deepened distrust of the West, and bolstered extremists.
For hours, old peace process hands, highly skilled diplomats, and keen military strategists struggled with unanswered questions.
Israel’s military objective, to eradicate Hamas, was unachievable, they agreed. But what then?
All rejected the displacement of Palestinian residents of Gaza outside the strip and an Israeli reoccupation, but who, exactly, would take political and economic responsibility for a flattened Gaza Strip?
How would yet another attempt to revive a two-state solution be different from the dozens that have failed?
As aproned staff carefully arranged porcelain cups and saucers ahead of the next coffee break, Jordanian Foreign Minister Ayman Safadi worried that debating postwar Gaza options in a glitzy hotel, even as war raged, was akin to watching “someone torching the whole place” but waiting for them to finish to say, “‘Now let’s put the fire out.’”
“We have to stop the killing.”
Many countries face a balancing act in responding to the Israel-Hamas war. But Thailand is in a particularly difficult spot. In the north, families fear for loved ones kidnapped by Hamas. In the south, many people empathize with the Palestinians, seeing an echo of their own struggles.
Prime Minister Srettha Thavisin faces a difficult challenge trying to bring home 25 Thai hostages taken by Hamas last month – the most of any foreign nation – while maintaining positive ties with Israel and managing mixed reactions to the war in Thailand.
Many of the thousands of Thai laborers working in Israel’s agriculture industry hail from the poor, northeastern region of Isan, where people now fear for their friends and family. Meanwhile, Muslim Thai Malays in the south are outraged by the killing of civilians in Gaza.
The latter region is particularly volatile, with the ongoing south Thailand insurgency heating up this year. Some nongovernmental organization leaders in Thailand worry that violent separatist groups could exploit locals’ grief and empathy to stir trouble.
“We are so upset, and there is a lot of anger,” says Anchana Heemmina, co-founder of Duayjai Group, which assists victims of excessive police force in southern Thailand. “We hope to embrace greater connectivity with the Palestinian people for peace.”
A moment of peace may be on the horizon: Politician Lepong Syed, part of a contingent of Thai-Muslim intermediaries holding quiet talks with Hamas representatives in Tehran, said last week that Thai hostages were safe and would “return to the motherland soon.” Today, Israel and Hamas are reportedly nearing an agreement on a temporary cease-fire and hostage exchange.
Since fighting broke out between Hamas and Israel last month, many countries have found themselves caught in the middle of the conflict. From foreign nationals trapped in Gaza during the early weeks of Israel’s bombing campaign, to the dozens of dual citizens and foreigners killed by Hamas fighters on Oct. 7, the losses have never been confined to Israeli and Palestinian families.
And perhaps no outside country has more at stake than Thailand.
Having been in office not even 100 days, Prime Minister Srettha Thavisin faces a tight balancing act trying to secure the release of 25 Thai hostages taken by Hamas – the most of any foreign nation – while also maintaining positive ties with Israel and managing reactions to the war back home.
Thailand has used local Thai Muslim intermediaries as part of its larger negotiating team to hold quiet talks with Hamas representatives in Tehran. Thai politician Lepong Syed, president of Thai-Iran Alumni Association, said in a press conference last week that Thai hostages were safe and would “return to the motherland soon.” Reuters reported Tuesday that Israel and Hamas are nearing an agreement on a temporary cease-fire and hostage exchange, though it’s not yet certain whether the Thai hostages will be part of that deal.
“This is a big win for the Srettha government, as they’re currently looking for quick wins,” says William Jones, professor of international relations and chair of the social sciences division at Mahidol University International College in Bangkok. “The release of Thai hostages is deeply important to the Thai population writ large. ... It hits a nerve.”
Historically, the predominantly Buddhist nation has managed to maintain a relatively neutral stance on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. It fostered friendly ties with both Israel and the Palestinian territories, recognizing the latter’s statehood in 2012 and voting against the United States’ move to endorse Jerusalem as Israel’s capital in 2017. Israel and Thailand are deeply intertwined economically, with some 30,000 Thai laborers working in Israel’s agricultural industry, thousands of whom were stationed on farms near the Gaza border.
Thais make up about 10% of the 240 people taken hostage on Oct. 7, and an estimated 39 Thai laborers were killed during the rampage.
“Thailand’s relationship with Israel should be secure, as Thailand has subtly sided with the Israelis due to economic factors,” says Dr. Jones. “Labor is an important issue, but also Thai exports of seafood and other agricultural goods is seen by Bangkok as most important, especially with this government having a laser focus on economic policies.”
Immediately after the Hamas attack, the Thai government released a statement expressing “our deepest condolences to the government and people of Israel on the unfortunate loss of lives and injuries caused by this inhumane and indiscriminate act.”
Now, as negotiations with Hamas over the release of Thai hostages continue through Iran, the conflict’s high death toll is stirring pro-Palestinian sentiment in a country once seen as broadly apathetic toward the conflict.
“The government needs to walk the line between distinguishing Hamas governance and the Palestinian people, because the mood in Thailand is mixed,” says Thitinan Pongsudhirak, director of the Institute of Security and International Studies. “Most Thais are upset about both the kidnappings of Thai workers and the loss of innocent civilians in Gaza.”
Where public opinion is split, such divisions largely fall along regional lines.
Many Thai workers in Israel hail from the poor, northeastern region of Isan, where people now fear for their friends and family. Then there are Muslim Thai Malays in the south who are outraged by the killing of civilians in Gaza.
The latter region remains particularly volatile, with the ongoing south Thailand insurgency heating up again this year. It has also seen more active protests against the war in Gaza, explains Dr. Thitinan, an associate professor of international political economy at Chulalongkorn University’s Faculty of Political Science.
On Oct. 21, several hundred Thai Muslims bused in from southern Thailand to protest peacefully outside the Israeli Embassy in Bangkok. Earlier that morning, in an unrelated incident on the Thai-Malay border, Islamic insurgents set off improvised explosive devices and engaged in a gun battle with police before slipping back into the forests of Songkhla province.
From a political perspective, Dr. Jones says Thailand’s divided response is manageable, noting that the south is not an electoral base for Mr. Srettha’s Pheu Thai Party.
“Isan is a Pheu Thai stronghold, so this constituency takes precedence. Srettha will pay lip service to the Muslim population [in the south], but delegate to the military on security issues unless things look to be getting out of control,” he says.
Yet some nongovernmental organization leaders in Thailand worry that violence could escalate as the crisis in Gaza intensifies and outrage mounts next door in Malaysia, whose government openly supports Hamas and condemns Israel.
Southerners say it’s been difficult to see graphic images of death and destruction from Gaza.
“We are so upset, and there is a lot of anger. ... No one should kill innocent people, especially those children,” says Anchana Heemmina, co-founder of the Songkhla-based human rights organization Duayjai Group, which assists victims of excessive police force.
She says that some people in southern Thailand are now drawing parallels between Israel’s occupation of the Palestinian territories and the Anglo-Siamese Treaty of 1909, which established the modern Malaysia-Thailand border and gave Thailand control of the southern, majority-Malay Patani region. It’s possible that violent separatist groups could use their grief and empathy to stir trouble, she says, but locals’ primary desire remains peace.
“We understand [the Palestinians’ experience] and empathize with each other,” she says. “We hope to embrace greater connectivity with the Palestinian people for peace.”
Lighthouses offer a certain nostalgic draw. But as the last lighthouse keeper in the United States retires, she insists that the beauty of the beacon need not be locked in the past.
When Sally Snowman first stepped foot on Little Brewster Island, home of Boston Light, at age 10, it was love at first sight. “I want to work as a keeper and get married here,” she recalls saying. She did both.
Now, after 20 years as keeper and even longer as a volunteer, she’s ready to retire. Perhaps even more importantly, she says, “the light is ready.”
For centuries lighthouses played the crucial role of guiding sailors safely through hazardous waters. Today, some are still active aids to navigation. They also hold a mystical, sentimental power to many, mariners or not, who balked at the news of the last lighthouse keeper retiring. The keeper herself has little patience for a nostalgia that would hamper the future of the icon she has tended for two decades. Ms. Snowman believes the transition will help lighthouses keep shining in the 21st century, rather than fade away.
A spiritual person, she’s touched by all the light has seen and withstood. But she is quietly firm that the transfer of the lighthouse is what’s best. “It’s important to ensure that our national icons are properly cared for,” she says.
When Sally Snowman became the keeper of Boston Light in 2003, she expected the role to last only two years. When she retires on Dec. 31, it will mark 20 years.
Ms. Snowman is the last of the lighthouse keepers in the United States. Her retirement marks the end of 307 years of keepers of Boston Light, originally established in 1716.
When Ms. Snowman first stepped foot on Little Brewster Island at age 10, it was love at first sight. “I want to work as a keeper and get married here,” she recalls saying. She did both. Now, after 20 years as keeper and even longer as a volunteer, she’s ready to retire. Perhaps even more importantly, she says, “the light is ready.”
For centuries lighthouses played the crucial role of guiding sailors safely through hazardous waters. Today, some are still active aids to navigation. They also hold a mystical, sentimental power to many, mariners or not, who balked at the news of the last lighthouse keeper retiring. The keeper herself has little patience for a nostalgia that would hamper the future of the icon she has tended for two decades. Ms. Snowman believes the transition will help lighthouses keep shining in the 21st century, rather than fade away.
The appeal of lighthouses reaches far and wide, says Jeremy D’Entremont, who has a weekly podcast, “Light Hearted,” and is the historian for the United States Lighthouse Society. Just recently, his co-host was an 11-year-old girl from Kentucky.
While big ships today have ample navigational technology, their captains “feel welcomed” by lights at harbor mouths, says local Dave Waller, who co-owns nearby Graves Light Station in Boston Harbor. And the need is still practical for smaller crafts. In Canada, there are still about 50 keepers, says Mr. D’Entremont. That’s to keep a human presence on coastlines to spot and assist people in need. “Smaller boaters ... like seeing that light,” he says. “It’s a confirmation.”
The U.S. Coast Guard’s mandate isn’t to restore or preserve historical structures like lighthouses. The military branch will continue to operate the aids to navigation – like the light and foghorn – but the actual upkeep of the physical structures and tours of the island are better suited to a different entity. Though the new owner hasn’t been announced, “there will be a new, vetted steward,” says Ms. Snowman. “The light is ready.”
This isn’t the first time the Coast Guard has looked to transfer ownership of Boston Light. That’s why Ms. Snowman expected her tenure to last only two years. Since 2019, when the Coast Guard initiated the most recent transfer attempt, there’s been “public outcry” over the future of the light, says Ms. Snowman. But, she says, that’s based on “false nostalgia” and misperceptions.
Over her 46 years as a Coast Guard auxiliary volunteer and keeper, Ms. Snowman has become intricately acquainted with the history of the lighthouse and local nautical history. She sews her own Colonial-style dresses for tours. She tried sewing a bonnet once, she says, but the pleats took too long. Now she buys them.
A spiritual person, she’s touched by all the light has seen and withstood. And even those things it has not been able to withstand, such as when it was demolished by the British as they made their last escape from the harbor during the Revolutionary War.
The first time Ms. Snowman did every chore on the island, she says she felt no fear and as if she’d done it all before: “It was coming home.”
Ms. Snowman is quietly firm that the transfer of the lighthouse is what’s best. “It’s important to ensure that our national icons are properly cared for,” she says.
Under a process laid out by the National Historic Lighthouse Preservation Act of 2000, there’s a mechanism for ownership of the historic sites to be transferred. Federally owned lighthouses are offered first to other federal agencies, then state and local governments, followed by nonprofits, and eventually private individuals.
Graves Light Station was bought at auction a decade ago after sitting neglected. When Mr. Waller stepped out onto the top deck and saw the panoramic view of Boston and the ocean, he “fell in love.” Born and raised in the area, Mr. Waller as well as his wife lives in a renovated fire station. Upon reflection, Mr. Waller admits to a “pattern of finding derelict historical structures and trying to save them.”
Over the past decade, the Wallers have been restoring Graves Light to its former glory. That has included significant repairs such as rebuilding a bridge that washed away and installing more aesthetic elements like porthole kitchen windows, which Mr. Waller bought at a marine auction. Then there’s the U.S. Lighthouse-issued bell and its clapper – the latter of which he found diving down to a shipwreck. Mr. Waller wants every artifact to be local to Graves Light or New England: “That’s the rule.”
The lifesaving role of lighthouses “is not ancient history,” says Mr. Waller. Just recently, two men had a boating accident and made it to the rocks at the base of Graves Light before they were rescued.
Over the years of research and work, history has returned to Graves Light. In one case, someone mailed an old, handcrafted checkerboard that a former keeper remembered sitting in the lighthouse. After poring over the blueprints (“you couldn’t have given me a better gift”), Mr. Waller was able to confirm the name of the engineer who designed the lighthouse for his descendants. There’s also the enormity of moments described in the logbooks. One day during World War II, a keeper found six German spies in a rowboat. Another entry described finding two men naked in an overturned canoe. “We gave them fresh clothes, they gave us false names,” the entry reads.
The man the Wallers outbid is also a lighthouse enthusiast who owns two others. After the auction, Boston-based philanthropist Bobby Sager reached out to Mr. Waller asking to buy Graves Light. Mr. Waller declined, but eventually the two reached an agreement. Now, they’re co-owners and good friends, says Mr. Waller – who was “lighthouse rich and cash poor” after the purchase. Mr. Sager helps to finance the restoration and gathers at the lighthouse with friends – such as the musician Sting, who sang “Roxanne” from the top of the lighthouse in what Mr. Waller described as a surreal moment.
There’s a barn-raising aspect to the lighthouse’s restoration, from Mr. Sager’s investment, to Mr. Waller’s carpenter relatives who built curved cabinetry and bunks, to the many New England locals who have crafted traditional parts. “People think, ‘Oh, I guess if you have enough money you can do anything,’” says Mr. Waller, as he sits inside the Fresnel lens fitting screws. “But even if you did have enough money, it wouldn’t be enough. … You have to drive it.”
Mr. Waller has spent years gathering glass pieces and researching how to rebuild Graves Light’s 40,000-pound Fresnel lens. Finally, he found a company in Australia that was able to piece the parts together and cast the brass frame. Now, he’s just waiting for the light to be officially commissioned by the Coast Guard. It will be the first time the Coast Guard has agreed to go from a modern LED light back to a Fresnel lens.
The same people studying the history of lighthouses see a future for them, too, not only as landmarks but also as navigational aids.
Though Ms. Snowman is the last official keeper of Boston Light, she’ll never be far. She lives in nearby Hull, the town on a spit of land opposite the light. And she’s open to continuing to give talks and offer tours as a volunteer. By her tally, Ms. Snowman was logging 4,000 hours of work and volunteering per year.
No matter who the new owner is, they’ll have to allow tours of the site, so Ms. Snowman wouldn’t be surprised if she’s still involved. “Give me a National Park volunteer hat,” she says. “I’ll just be one of the tour guides.”
Editor’s note: This story has been updated to correct the number of hours Ms. Snowman worked and volunteered per year.
Religious intolerance and hatred can often seem so deeply ingrained as to present no way forward. In India, sectarian tensions are worsening. But the life and work of a famous poet is also serving as a reminder that the instinct to love and unite is just as deep.
Born a Hindu but raised by Muslims, the 15th-century poet Kabir was equally scathing of both Muslim and Hindu orthodoxies and preached universal love in his poetry. Kabir’s couplets about searching for wisdom and righteousness inspired many during his lifetime, and remain a common element of Hindu, Muslim, and even Sikh devotional songs today.
In fact, followers argue that his legacy has become more poignant with the rise of Hindutva, a political ideology that seeks to establish Hindu hegemony in India.
As hostility toward minorities rises, Kabir’s work highlights the subcontinent’s rich history of religious coexistence. Every year, hundreds pay homage to Kabir at a shrine in the holy city of Varanasi, and many academics, artists, and activists throughout India are using his words to express pride in the country’s multicultural community.
Among them is Umesh Kabir, a Hindu scholar who as a teenager was drawn to Kabir’s love for humanity and later adopted his name.
By performing Kabir’s poetry for schoolchildren and homeless people, “I have understood in a deeper way what it means to be a human,” he says, adding that devotion to Kabir means challenging any messages that spread fear or hatred toward minority communities.
“Kabir questions everything,” he says.
The recent increase in hate crimes against religious minorities in India, particularly targeting Muslims, is prompting many Indians to worry about deteriorating communal bonds. Some are turning to a 15th-century mystic poet for hope and guidance.
Born, according to one legend, to a Hindu mother but raised by a Muslim couple, Kabir was equally scathing of both Muslim and Hindu orthodoxies and preached universal love in his poetry. While he faced persecution by leaders of both faiths, Kabir also inspired many during his lifetime. Legend says that when he died, as Hindus and Muslims fought over how to conduct final rites, his body was replaced with a bed of flowers, which a heavenly voice asked his followers to divide amongst themselves.
Today, his couplets about searching for wisdom and righteousness remain a common element of Hindu, Muslim, and even Sikh devotional songs. Visitors pay homage to Kabir at a shrine in the holy city of Varanasi, where the poet grew up, and also at a tomb a few hours north in Maghar, said to hold the remains of the poet.
His followers argue that his legacy has become even more poignant with the rise of Hindutva, a political ideology that seeks to establish Hindu hegemony in India. As hostility toward minorities rises, Kabir’s work highlights the subcontinent’s rich history of religious coexistence, and many academics, artists, and activists are using his words to express pride in India’s multicultural community.
Among them is Umesh Kabir, a Hindu scholar who was drawn as a teenager to Kabir’s love for humanity and later adopted the last name “Kabir.” Today, he performs Kabir’s poetry for a variety of audiences, including schoolchildren and people experiencing homelessness.
Through this work, “I have understood in a deeper way what it means to be a human,” he says, adding that devotion to Kabir means challenging any messages that spread fear or hatred toward minority communities.
After all, he says, “Kabir questions everything.”
Kabir is one of the most prominent writers associated with the bhakti movement, a devotional movement that flourished in northern India from the 13th century to the 17th century. It promoted vernacular literature and challenged powerful socio-religious conventions, including caste.
Kabir’s poetry was so influential that the founder of Sikhism, Guru Nanak, incorporated it into the faith’s sacred scriptures.
Simranjit Singh, a Sikh who grew up hearing Kabir’s couplets, developed a deeper appreciation for the poet in graduate school.
“I found his ideas refreshing and provocative,” says the scholar. “His ability to share a profound idea with such brevity, and to do it in a way that resonates centuries later in a context he couldn’t even imagine, speaks to the depth of his wisdom.”
Kabir’s poems show “what it means to live among diversity,” he says. “That the Sikh Gurus included him as a sort of peer reminds us that one need not follow a single religious tradition in ... pursuit of enlightenment.”
Over the past decade, several Indian universities have organized events and lectures promoting communal harmony through Kabir’s poetry.
Banaras Hindu University in Varanasi held a conference late last month, where more than 30 speakers from India, Sri Lanka, and South Africa gathered to discuss devotional songs and poetry that have historically transcended religious divides. Kabir was front and center, along with other members of the bhakti movement.
BHU Dean Binda Paranjape says Kabir speaks to many young people who want to restore the country’s secular and inclusive ethos.
“The present-day situation in India is not comfortable for the younger generation,” she says. “They are really worried for their future. [There is communal] violence and economic uncertainty, and especially with the kind of challenges they are facing, Kabir gives a lot of hope to think beyond.”
In the northern state of Rajasthan, some law enforcement officials have partnered with folk singers to spread Kabir’s message of peace.
Gopal Singh Chauhan, founder of the traveling folk festival Rajasthan Kabir Yatra (which means “A Journey With Kabir”), began collaborating with police across the state in 2015, after an argument over conflicting religious processions in the town of Dungargarh erupted into mob violence.
His group has visited dozens of other towns since, using Kabir’s poetry to create a space where people from all classes, castes, and religions can engage in dialogue.
“If Kabir says something, then it resonates,” Mr. Chauhan says, which can help promote peace and lead to “a very transformative journey for people.”
Indeed, the power of Kabir’s poetry lies in his broad reach, say experts and devotees.
Dalpat Rajpurohit, a South Asia scholar who specializes in early Hindi literature at University of Texas at Austin, notes that conservative Hindus also express admiration for Kabir. During a holiday honoring Kabir’s birth in 2021, Prime Minister Narendra Modi praised the poet for inspiring “brotherhood and goodwill.”
“It’s very hard to negate Kabir, even for Hindu nationalists,” says Dr. Rajpurohit.
As such, Kabir’s poetry offers a useful language for discussing religious diversity, especially in times of intense social discord. Kabir may not have ended religious hostilities, Dr. Rajpurohit says, but his legacy of questioning religious orthodoxies keeps this discourse alive, and, along with it, hope for a more harmonious future.
Ganesh Shankar Chaturvedi, a social activist working on issues of preservation and education in Varanasi, feels this hope.
He is inspired by Kabir’s ability to see both sides of an issue, and to be equally critical of each. It’s a quality he strives for in his work, which does not discriminate on the basis of faith. Mr. Chaturvedi also says he relates more to Kabir’s humanist message than to the teachings of some fellow Hindus who fear their neighbors.
“Wherever there is love, where there is truth, where there is humanity ... there will be Kabir,” he says.
Films about artists face a dilemma: Focus on the artists or their art? It’s a tough balance for the best movies. But in focusing on the troubled marriage of Leonard Bernstein, a new film misses both the man and the legendary musician.
The arrival of “Maestro,” the new movie about Leonard Bernstein starring Bradley Cooper, prompts the perennial question: Is it possible to successfully dramatize the life of a great artist?
If you focus primarily on the life and not the art, the artist may get lost in the shuffle. If you attempt to link the events of that life with the art that issued from it, the results can be specious and simplistic. Focusing on the art while skimping on the life can be equally unsatisfactory. Also, how do you believably convey the throes of creation – particularly when it involves writing or painting or musical composition – without serving up a slew of hokey “aha” moments?
“Maestro,” which covers the life of the revered conductor-composer from the mid-1940s through the mid-1980s, falls heavily into the first two traps. Directed by Cooper, who also co-wrote the script with Josh Singer, the film serves up so much Sturm und Drang about the great man’s messed-up private life that it barely bothers to explore his creative genius.
Clearly Cooper didn’t want to make a standard biopic. The narrative, shot in black-and-white until it switches to color halfway through, is often choppy and vertiginous. He scrupulously avoids hall-of-fame moments. The genesis of “West Side Story,” for example, Bernstein’s most famous credit, registers as little more than a blip on the screen.
The film’s center is instead occupied by Bernstein’s deeply loving and deeply troubled marriage to the Chilean American actress Felicia Montealegre (Carey Mulligan), whom he wed in 1951 and with whom he had three children before she died in 1978. (Bernstein lived another 12 years.)
What gives this union, at least potentially, its dramatic resonance is that Bernstein – whose flings and affairs in the film are all with men – was indiscreetly bisexual. Felicia was not deluding herself about Lenny (as practically everyone in the movie calls him). She tells him early on, “I know exactly who you are,” yet she wants to give the marriage a shot anyway.
“Maestro” frames the romance as a fraught but soulful bonding between two kindred spirits, and yet what comes across is more like a shared folly. This despite the fact that Mulligan’s poignant performance is the film’s main saving grace.
As the years rack up, we can see how Felicia’s gamble in marrying this man has not paid off. The soul-deep connection may be there, but not – until the very end, when she is dying – the love and kindness she craves.
From Cooper, whose prosthetic makeup in the early scenes is more distracting than convincing, we get mostly histrionics. The chain-smoking Lenny is all aquiver, on the podium and everywhere else. The film perpetuates the same fallacy as the overwrought “Tar,” starring Cate Blanchett as a crazed-genius conductor. Bernstein’s inner and outer lives are made to seem all of a piece, as if this fusion is what made him a true virtuoso. It’s that old Hollywood cliché: An artist is indistinguishable from his art, even though, in reality, his creations often have little or nothing to do with his private character. And because “Maestro,” apart from indiscriminately pumping the soundtrack with his music, delves so perfunctorily into Bernstein’s artistry, even this cliché doesn’t get a full airing.
Will audiences who have never heard of Bernstein except via “West Side Story” be drawn to this movie?
There is so much more to him, both as a man and a musician, than this film cares to encompass.
Instead of watching “Maestro,” I would recommend listening to Bernstein’s great orchestral recordings of Mahler, Sibelius, Beethoven, and so many others. Or his scores for “Candide,” “On the Town,” “On the Waterfront,” or “The Age of Anxiety.” His “Young People’s Concerts” TV lectures, the finest introductions to classical music I know, are available on the internet and DVD. Therein lie the real riches.
Peter Rainer is the Monitor’s film critic. “Maestro” is rated R for some language and drug use. The film opens in select theaters Nov. 22, and will be available on Netflix Dec. 20.
He convinced Europe to become the first continent to be climate neutral by 2050. He convinced it to switch large tracts of land to nature preserves. Now Frans Timmermans faces what may be an even bigger challenge. After stepping down as European Commissioner for green policies in August, the Dutch politician is facing voters Wednesday in an election that will determine the next prime minister of the Netherlands. Only it is much more than that.
Mr. Timmermans’ main hurdle in the election: convincing Dutch citizens that the costs of going green will be fairly shared – among farmers or anyone else who contributes to greenhouse gases.
The election is one of the most closely watched this year, and for good reason. It comes days before the next climate summit convened by the United Nations. The confab opens Nov. 30 in Dubai with one focus: how to distribute the burden of mitigating and adapting to climate change. Emerging economies are seeking some $100 billion from rich nations to soften the impact of extreme weather.
The Dutch election could send a signal on whether leaders like Mr. Timmermans can be trusted to find fair formulas for energy sacrifices at the local and national level.
He convinced Europe to become the first continent to be climate neutral by 2050. He convinced it to switch large tracts of land to nature preserves. Now Frans Timmermans, or “Mister Green Deal,” faces what may be an even bigger challenge. After stepping down as European Commissioner for green policies in August, the Dutch politician is facing voters Wednesday in an election that will determine the next prime minister of the Netherlands. Only it is much more than that.
Mr. Timmermans’ main hurdle in the election: convincing Dutch citizens that the costs of going green will be fairly shared – among farmers or anyone else who contributes to greenhouse gases – and that no one is left behind in Europe’s energy transition.
The election is one of the most closely watched this year, and for good reason. It comes days before the next climate summit convened by the United Nations. The confab opens Nov. 30 in Dubai with one focus: how to distribute the burden of mitigating and adapting to climate change. Emerging economies are seeking some $100 billion from rich nations to soften the impact of extreme weather.
The Dutch election could send a signal on whether leaders like Mr. Timmermans can be trusted to find fair formulas for energy sacrifices at the local and national level. He certainly knows the issue. A half-century ago, he watched how the hometown of his grandfather, a miner, had to face the government closure of coal mines.
“After the mine closures, Meezenbroek slid away, slowly at first and later more rapidly,” Mr. Timmermans wrote in a newsletter after a campaign stop there. “Neglect, alienation, degradation. A feeling of insecurity, a deep unease.”
The big issue he faces in the campaign is whether to force Dutch farmers to reduce the nitrogen emissions that contribute to global warming – a mandatory policy he championed in the European Union. Last March, after protests by farmers on tractors, a pro-farmers party won heavily in local elections. In a televised debate, he suggested that he was open to negotiating.
Mr. Timmermans “will have his work cut out to win over the Dutch public – a majority of whom support farmers in opposing government plans to cut pollution by reducing livestock herds,” wrote Francesco Grillo of European University Institute in The Guardian.
The election is a test of how leaders can calm the fears of individuals over the coming energy transition. “Discontent with green policies is not necessarily a sign that people are unconcerned by climate change. More plausibly, they are tired of being lectured to and impatient with the failure to recognise that the energy transition can’t be achieved by one-size-fits-all prescriptions that pay scant attention to implementation and cost at the individual level,” wrote Mr. Grillo. “We will win the battle for the radical transformation required only if citizens see themselves as part of it, rather than as passive consumers of top-down decisions.”
Having come down from the top echelons of EU decision-making, Mr. Timmermans is now humbled by the farmers he faces. “I am hereby offering them a helping hand,” he said. “We will come up with proposals together.”
Each weekday, the Monitor includes one clearly labeled religious article offering spiritual insight on contemporary issues, including the news. The publication – in its various forms – is produced for anyone who cares about the progress of the human endeavor around the world and seeks news reported with compassion, intelligence, and an essentially constructive lens. For many, that caring has religious roots. For many, it does not. The Monitor has always embraced both audiences. The Monitor is owned by a church – The First Church of Christ, Scientist, in Boston – whose founder was concerned with both the state of the world and the quality of available news.
Claiming a spiritual sense of security, we receive the divine inspiration that saves, as a woman experienced when part of her house caught fire.
A sense of safety and security may seem hard to come by these days. Reports of accidents, hazardous weather, and violence bombard the senses. Is there a spiritual remedy for us to feel and experience safety wherever we are?
Yes, referring to cultivating the Christly qualities Jesus exuded, such as meekness, mercy, and love, Christian Science expounds, “Thus founded upon the rock of Christ, when storm and tempest beat against this sure foundation, you, safely sheltered in the strong tower of hope, faith, and Love, are God’s nestlings; and He will hide you in His feathers till the storm has passed” (Mary Baker Eddy, “Miscellaneous Writings 1883-1896,” p. 152)
Mary Baker Eddy, who discovered the divine laws of God and named them Christian Science, wrote of this safety, as Christ Jesus practiced it, “Jesus demonstrated the inability of corporeality, as well as the infinite ability of Spirit, thus helping erring human sense to flee from its own convictions and seek safety in divine Science” (“Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures,” p. 494).
This Science includes the paramount understanding that God tenderly guides and protects all of His creation – because God is divine Love and man is God’s reflection. This knowledge opens thought to the scientific fact that God is forever enveloping, embracing, and encompassing each of us in His love no matter what!
Safety is therefore not predicated on “perfect” material conditions but on the ever-presence of God, divine Love, and with this realization comes the confidence that man is always above the threat of destruction. When this is understood, the human conviction in danger dissipates.
Christ Jesus taught that man has an indestructible relationship with God, just as he proved for his own life. This was his oneness with God. Jesus demonstrated that God, whom he called Father, was his Life, and he evidenced the safety and protection this brings. And so can we! God’s law of protection is ever in effect, even when it seems we’re facing a perilous situation.
Even the understanding that Love is our safe place where we always dwell comes from God. Divine Love imparts to us a spiritual sense of God’s ability to protect and preserve His creation.
This is illustrated in the Bible story of Noah. He had such a clear capacity to seek and heed God’s guidance that he was divinely inspired to build an ark before anyone else had an inkling that a huge flood would occur, protecting his family and many creatures. A spiritual interpretation of “ark” in Science and Health defines it as, “Safety; the idea, or reflection, of Truth, proved to be as immortal as its Principle; the understanding of Spirit, destroying belief in matter.
“God and man coexistent and eternal; Science showing that the spiritual realities of all things are created by Him and exist forever” (p. 581). In the holy mental state this points to, of understanding our relation to Truth, Principle, and Spirit – which are synonyms for God – we discern the protective presence of God at hand keeping us lifted out of danger.
On my morning walk one day, a familiar passage from the Bible came clearly to me: “The Lord is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust; my buckler, and the horn of my salvation, and my high tower” (Psalms 18:2). This deeply inspired me, and I felt a wave of peace enveloping me. I knew that no matter what situation I found myself in, God would be protecting me and all that I loved.
Moments later, as I entered my house, I immediately saw a cloud of smoke outside the front window. I called to my husband, and from his career as a fire inspector he quickly assessed that an outside electrical outlet had shorted out. Normally a circuit breaker would trip, but in this case it hadn’t, and now a fire had started under the front steps. We worked quickly, without any sense of panic. I actually felt a deep peace.
After the fire was extinguished, having caused minimal damage, my husband, with a quiet sense of awe in his voice, said “God surely was taking care of us today.” How grateful we were to have been at home and able to stop the fire just moments after it had started.
We can be grateful to know that God, divine Love, protects all of His creation. Prayerfully acknowledging that God is an ever-present help opens our eyes to the divine laws that safeguard, alert, and deliver us under all circumstances.
The Lord truly is our rock, our fortress, and our deliverer.
Thank you for joining us today. Tomorrow, we’ll have a Monitor Daily filled with gratitude, in recognition of the American celebration of Thanksgiving later this week. We’ll also continue to keep an eye on the latest developments in the Middle East.